A Different Kind Of Fate
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: The first thing you noticed about a Winc hester was their smile. Outsider POV for that same prompt. Legendary!Boys Rated T for swearing. Final part is up!
1. Chapter 1

A/N Written for a prompt from my lovely Beta, Angelical devil, who makes my day every time I see them.

Outsider POV for the prompt "The first thing you noticed about a Winchester was their smile."

* * *

The first thing you noticed about a Winchester was their smile.

Of course, the second thing you noticed were their bodies-they weren't ugly men.

It was argued for years after that those two things were what had gotten them through so much; after all, who would argue with a man who looked like they did?

These remarks were usually kicked up around the third round at the hunting bars; generally from the more scruffier hunters towards the back.

In the end, though, even the hunters who claimed they weren't jealous couldn't lie. There was something otherworldly about the Winchesters, like a thin aura around them that everyone could see but pretended not to.

It had been years since Tom's family had been killed, but it was only his first year hunting. He relied heavily on the roadhouse, the contacts it provided, the tips. His first hunts had gone off well, not perfect, but he'd been told he had the makings of a fine hunter in him.

Nothing like the Winchesters, someone would mutter. Every time that name popped up, Tom's curiosity peaked.

Who are the Winchesters? He'd ask.

The younger hunters would laugh, claiming they were an old pair of hunters who got lucky long ago and probably didn't live to hear the tale, but the older men would turn their faces away almost as if they were ashamed.

You heard rumors, sometimes, about a hunt somewhere that was too complicated, too dangerous. A while ago, if you didn't know something, they said you could call a guy up in South Dakota, but he'd died a few years back. Tom didn't really remember his name, something with a B, maybe. All he knew was that man had been your go-to guy. Complicated omens? Need a full Latin exorcism?

Go to South Dakota.

These days, they said to call the Winchesters. They wouldn't show up, no, but soon as you checked in, the lucky hunter would successfully have completed the hunt, and that was what mattered.

A lot of the hunters (especially the younger ones) were too arrogant to accept help from strangers. A lot of them got killed that way, and besides a one-time toast, a lot of thought didn't go towards them either.

The Winchesters were a bit of an enigma to the hunting community, and Tom thought maybe they preferred it that way. They didn't travel in anyone's circles, but everyone knew of them or about them somehow. Sometimes, Tom got the impression people were scared of them.

Naturally, that only made Tom's curiosity grow, so one cold winter's night after a semi-successful werewolf hunt, he sat himself down next to Alan, one of the oldest hunters in the roadhouse.

"Alan." He said, greeting the man. He received a curt nod, and the older man went back to his beer.

It was one of his first big hunts, and he'd felt giddy. On top of the world, so to say. So, he'd blurted out his question pretty quickly, alcohol and pure curiosity driving him.

"Who are the Winchesters?" He'd asked, propping his elbows up on the table, staring at Alan until he made eye contact.

"Son," Alan muttered. "Get your stupid ass outta here and stop poking fun." He looked affronted, like Tom had insulted his childhood heroes.

"I'm not!" He said quickly. "I just wanna know more about them. Y'all never talk about them, like there's something wrong about 'em." Tom pleaded with the other man.

Two dark brown eyes stared at him out of an old wrinkled face, ball cap blocking the low lights from above.

There was a long pause, and Tom thought Alan had gone back to his beer and was ignoring him before the older man suddenly spoke up.

"Y'know how long there's been a bar here?" Alan asked, and the question threw Tom off for a couple seconds.

"A couple decades?" He responded finally, frowning at the older man. "Why?"

Alan shook his head. "This bar's been here three years, son. Three." He said cryptically, nursing his beer.

"So?" Tom asked after a second, confused. "What does this have to do with the Winchesters?"

Alan tapped the table, wood barely making a sound over the general murmur of the other hunters chatting around them.

"I'm saying there used to be a bar here, before this one. It burned down, hell, four years ago. All those connections, some hunters, information. All gone." He said, head down.

"And?"

Another pause.

"The Winchesters built this one." Alan said, glancing up into Tom's eyes with an unusual clarity and emotion, fingers abandoning his bottle.

" Be grateful." Alan said before getting up, leaving his beer behind as he grabbed his jacket and made his way out the door.

Dumbstruck, Tom just sat at the empty table. He didn't even notice when the other hunters shouted at the poker game three tables over.

* * *

A few months pass, and there's a few whispers here and there. The Winchesters have a plan, the demons say, but no one's really sure. It's apparent that there's fewer and fewer hunters these days, but no one's drawing attention to it. People are worried, and hunts are becoming more and more dangerous, and hunters are getting killed off.

The demons think it's damn funny, but a little salt and holy water usually calms 'em down.

A few months into the summer, an announcement reaches the Roadhouse. The Winchesters are holding a round-robin in Lebanon, Kansas, the goddamn center of the United States. The announcement is pretty cryptic, saying only that all the hunters need to be there.

The Roadhouse is in a flurry up until then. People make speeches about not worshiping lost idols, of free will and thought. Others grumble about it, calling the message a hoax and a damn shame too.

Tom's not really sure what to think, except for the obvious fact:

The Winchesters are going to be in Lebanon on August 1st, and that's where he'll be.

xxxxx

In the end, almost everyone goes, because aside from immediate hunts, there isn't a lot for them to do except sit on their asses and whine. Even the younger ones go, eyes wide and curious even as they mock these two "Winchesters".

"Better luck than with the rifle." One old hunter, Rob, mutters as they pack up their stuff, and that silences the younger ones.

The drive to Lebanon is pretty similar to every other hunt any hunter'd been on. Lots of excitement and a whole lot of boredom.

Tom's not really bored, even though the road's looked the same for the last four hours. It was kind of like meeting your idol for the first time, when your heart couldn't stop thumping and your brain played a constant tape: You're going, you're going, you're gonna meet them...

He wondered if he'd be disappointed when he finally did.

xxxxx

The first thing he noticed about the Winchester was their smiles.

There was a smile for every occasion, a smile for slipping into a witnesses' house, a smile for the motel employee who looked at your clothes a little funny. Even a smile for other hunters. It was kinda funny that in their terrible line of business, they smiled a lot more than everyone else.

When they got to the round robin, people were already setting up. The field the Winchester's had called for the meeting was swamped with cars, circling around a large, black chevy that Tom couldn't make out very well. Hunters were on top of their cars, chatting to other people, on the phone.

They all looked a little unsure of themselves, doubtful that they should even be there, even though the ring of cars enclosed everyone like a family.

Tom parked his car near the front, snagging a spot he'd been lucky to find. After turning off the ignition, he clambered out, noon sun beating down on his face.

The black chevy was a beauty, a '67 Impala if he'd ever seen one. There was no doubt whose car this was, from the respectful gap around it to the obvious looks people were sending its way.

Where were the Winchesters?

A hush settled over the crowd as everyone turned towards the back of the field, all staring at something Tom couldn't see.

In the harsh light, he could see two figures emerge from the woods in the back, tall and resolute as they parted the crowd.

However they'd gotten these people here, with whatever doubt they'd come with, it all disappeared as they watched the men walk down the aisle that had parted for them, and Tom got his first glance.

They were both wearing smiles, white-toothed and calming. There were smiles for every occasion, and these two wore diplomatic ones.

It was more than that, though. Their eyes were so vulnerable, like windows to the soul or whatever that shit was. It was crazy how open they were, like they told a story that the two men wanted everyone to hear regardless of what they thought.

Their smiles spoke of something else, an ease of the life that of all the hunters in the crowd, no one could claim. Their smiles made everyone remember, remember the time their father congratulated them, slapped them on the back and reprimanded them at the same time.

They were so old, even if their bodies were so young. All the people who'd doubted them, mocked them even, laid their heads down in shame as their eyes roved over them. These men had seen it all and more, and anyone stupid enough to challenge that would be attacked by the other hunters before the two brothers turned around.

The one on the right was tall, like those old Greek god statues in the museums. He wore his hair down, shaggy and curling around his temples in a wind mussed way Tom knew wasn't as easy as it looked. He had calm hazel eyes, dimples flashing as he smiled at the crowd, but the lines around his eyes nudged at Tom, made him remember that the Winchesters weren't all spun sugar and smiles.

The one on the left walked bow legged, smiling even as his stance screamed 'attitude'. He had sharp green eyes, flashing in the sun as he turned to his brother, putting a hand over his mouth as he spoke to his brother.

His hair was blond, but the other man's was a dark brown. They didn't look like brothers at first glance, but after some staring you could see the similarities from the curve of their jaws to the concise smile they still wore.

The second they got down to their car and turned their backs for a second, the hush fell away, and suddenly everyone was talking.

"Goddamnit, how are they so YOUNG?" Someone muttered to his right, while another voice joined in.

"Made a deal with a demon, caught the bastard myself. Lying bastards, that's what they are."

"That's them?" Tom whispered to somebody nearby.

"Dean's looking better." Someone said.

"Which one's Dean?"

"The blonde one. Sam's the tall guy."

Oh, hunters. They were a fickle bunch.

The hush came back as the men stood on the hood of the impala, and when they spoke, it seemed to echo across the field, clear and low in every hunter's ear.

"Welcome." Sam said, voice pleasant. "It's good that you've all made it."

There was a brief smatter of applause, and everyone turned to see who it was. Confused, Dean continued as the crowd turned back to him.

"We've got some bad news." He started. "And in bad news, I mean really fucking bad."

There was silence, as everyone took it in.

"There are less and less hunters every day." Sam said, taking over for his brother again as his black t-shirt flapped in the light breeze. "We are getting killed off too easily, and there's nothing we can do about it."

He paused, looking at everyone in a manner that made Tom appreciate the man's speaking skills, like everyone was included.

"We can fix this. Dean and I have a way, but we can't do it alone." He said, and the crowd began to stir.

"How you gonna fix it?" Someone called out. "Damn demons near overrun the country, and you have a PLAN?"

Some of the crowd nodded, looking at the man.

Sam's eyes flashed, but he smiled reassuringly. "We have a way, a surefire way. But we need your help."

"That's where you all come into play." Dean said, and the crowd quieted, waiting for the reveal.

Silence, a quick pause.

"We have a spell that can close the gates of hell."

The crowd erupted, hunters shouting dubiously and affirmatively at the same time, calling out at the Winchesters loudly.

The two of them stood tall on the car, calm and patient as the whole hunting community shouted, shouting at them and eventually at each other.

"You're gonna goddamn save the world again?" Someone screamed. "How'd that go the last time?"

Dean smirked at the person who'd shouted. "I'm still here." He said, pointing a finger and raising an eyebrow, daring the person to argue with him.

Sam looked out over the crowd, eyes patient as he waited for them to calm down.

They didn't.

Eventually, they'd apparently had enough, and Dean grabbed something from behind him and held it in the air.

Tom just had enough time to flinch as the sound of rock salt echoing from a shotgun filled the air.

The whole crowd quieted, but a lot of hands reached towards holsters warningly.

"Listen up!" Dean shouted, and the whole crowd turned.

* * *

A/N So, more is promised if people like...leave me a review?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N So, thanks to the many reviews! Nothing makes me happier after a week of flames than a long, paragraphed review! Seriously, ya'll know who you are. You rock! So, here is another chapter, which I didn't expect to get out, honestly...

* * *

_Sam looked out over the crowd, eyes patient as he waited for them to calm down._

_They didn't._

_Eventually, they'd apparently had enough, and Dean grabbed something from behind him and held it in the air._

_Tom just had enough time to flinch as the sound of rock salt echoing from a shotgun filled the air._

_The whole crowd quieted, but a lot of hands reached towards holsters warningly._

_"Listen up!" Dean shouted, and the whole crowd turned._

* * *

Dean waited until everyone had settled, eyes watchful as some (but not all) of the guns dropped.

"This is probably one of the most important moments of your life!" The blonde man shouted, gun resting against his side, though Tom had the impression he could fire it quicker than any hunter in the crowd. "You have never, ever faced something this big. This is not something we're going to go into half-cocked because you guys can't stay quiet for ten seconds!"

The whole crowd was silent, staring at the man. Sam looked up from his hands then, eyes calculating.

"This spell is complicated, you guys." He started out peaceably, using his hands to express the point. "That's why you're here. Dean and I can't do it alone. There's parts of it you're going to have to help us with.

"And we need your help, trust us." The tall man said when someone coughed in disbelief. Dean turned towards the person in warning, and the hunter turned his head down in shame.

"Well, what's the spell?" A clear voice called out from the crowd. Dean answered this time. He shared a glance with Sam before staring into the crowd.

"You guys remember when it was getting real bad up here?" Dean asked seriously. "When stuff was going down that was bigger than all of us?"

It went quiet.

A few heads in the crowd nodded, while many didn't.

"And how it all ended one day?" Dean finished. "And suddenly it was back to normal?"

The heads that had nodded earlier paused, nodding after a second like they hadn't considered that.

"Sam and I, we saw part of it go down." Dean said, looking at Sam quickly before addressing the crowd again. "There was a sort of ritual like now, with four rings. Four rings from each horsemen of the apocalypse."

A few uneasy murmurs went through the crowd, and people started to look doubtful.

Sam seemed to notice this, raising his hands and looked at the crowd pleadingly.

"For this spell," Sam took over, deftly considering the crowd with sharp eyes like his brother. "We need teams to go after four different demons. Four demons, four keys, you might say." He said, smiling bitterly. Tom noticed a two hunters next to him, Ritchie and another guy whose name he didn't know shifting where they were standing, looking murderous. Tom remembered that Ritchie had been one of the most adamant that Sam and Dean had been lying.

"Four demons each hold a part of this key." Sam said, looking resolute suddenly as the sun went behind a cloud, casting shadows over both Winchester's faces. Tom flinched as Sam's eyes went over him, convinced for a second they'd been all black. When the sun came back out, he sighed in relief as Sam's eyes were back to green.

"We have the locations of these four demons." Dean said. "But you're all going to have to work together. These bitches are high up on the food chain, and they don't go down with a chest full of rock salt."

Sam spoke.

"We need these suckers back for the ritual without being exorcised. Special chains have been made to help, but you're going to need a team to rangle these demons down."

Dean moved to the front again.

"Sam and I will be heading the team in the Midwest. We need three other captains to head the other teams." He said, the suggestion clear in his voice.

"Volunteers?" Someone in the crowd shouted. Everyone stared at their feet. They had just edged into uncomfortable silence when Alan looked up, ball cap still covering his face.

"I'll take one!" He shouted when nobody volunteered. People turned in waves to see him, some glaring.

"Good." Dean said, voice still carrying. "Anybody else?"

The crowd was silent again, everyone avoiding eye contact like high school. Dean shared an uncomfortable look with Sam, stepping forward on the hood of the car slowly.

"Guys," Dean started out, voice rough. "I know you. I've done exactly what you have my whole life." He said pleadingly, trying to make eye contact with those who would look up. "We can't give up on this now. Not when the whole future rests on this.

"I've been there." He said after a pause, green eyes intent. "When you're bleeding out and scared, when you've got one bullet left and two monsters. I've done that. We have been through the thick of it all, and now there's a way to end it."

He paused, considering the crowd again. "And now you're telling me we're gonna give up? That we're not even gonna fucking try?"

A few heads rose, looking embarrassed. Tom kept eye contact the whole time, intrigued. Why did everyone seem so...unwilling?

If Tom had been a hunter with pull, he would've already been up to the car ready for instructions. He'd heard worse plans, honestly, and hunters went into situations that seemed worse. So why the doubt?

Both men had a pull to them that almost seemed unnatural. It wasn't bad, though. Tom couldn't understand why the others were so suspicious.

Sam looked resigned, grabbing Dean's shoulder and pulling him in to whisper something in his ear. Dean nodded reluctantly, stepping back. Sam turned puppy-dog eyes on the crowd, looking years younger.

"There's a time for differences and a time to embrace them." He stated, voice smooth and melodic. "Now is the time to put those aside. We do this together, you'll never see us again. But we need to end this, once and for all." He paused. "And I think, deep down, all of you know that."

A hunter to the left of Tom stood on his car, flannel rippling in the soft wind.

"Fine. I'm in." He said. "I don't have to like it, though." Sam nodded at him diplomatically, turning back to the crowd.

One more hunter stood up in succession, attracting glares and whispers. Sam and Dean looked more at ease, whispering one more time before Sam stood forward again.

"Come get your directions from me and form four groups. Anyone not cool with this..." He trailed off. "Well, I guess you can leave now." He said, trading a glance with Dean.

Cars began to start up, while others grouped together around the various hunters. Sam and Dean dropped into the crowd, handing out sheets and instructions. Small cases were handed out to each of the captains, disappearing into trucks and backseats. Hunters walked around, finding groups and making plans. Suddenly, this was all coming together, even reluctantly.

Ritchie and the other hunter passed by where Sam and Dean were standing then, glaring at the brothers unabashedly. Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder, holding the other man back as he leaned forward, glaring back. He whispered quickly into Dean's ear.

Ritchie saw Tom staring, walking over to him as the other hunter struggled to keep up. They wore the usual hunter outfit, dirty boots causing clouds of dust to puff in the dry dirt.

"Tommy!" Ritchie said, grinning to reveal old, crooked teeth. "Thinking of joining this hunt?" He asked, voice filled with so many traps, insinuations and threats that Tom took a step back.

Ritchie had gained a reputation for being forceful in his hunts. He became a demon expert after the Winchesters left the general hunting community, as far as Tom could tell. He was going on fifty something now, but had the disposition of an attack dog. Mean and gray, Ritchie wasn't someone anyone wanted to cross.

Even so, Tom's curiosity held out. "Yeah. Actually, I came to join Winchesters' group. You know if there's any spots left?"

Ritchie squinted at him, eyes narrowing in distaste. "Oh, plenty." He said, waving his hand at the small group of people standing near the Impala. "Though I'd recommend you find another group."

Tom pressed his lips together. "And why would you suggest that?" He asked neutrally, hands going to rest on his belt.

Ritchie shifted, throwing a quick glare at the two figures standing in the dying light. "No reason."

Tom nodded. "Then I guess we don't have a problem."

Ritchie stood aside to let him pass. Tom walked forward, flinching when a withered hand grabbed his shoulder tightly.

"You're making a mistake." Ritchie muttered, breath stinking in Tom's face. "They're going to kill us all, you know. Gordon had the right idea, all those years ago."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tom asked, voice low. "Get your hand off of me." He said, inching his own hand to the gun on his belt.

"Now all you yuppies do is worship those two." Ritchie continued, hand getting tighter. "Serves you right you'll go down with them. They're not even on our side!" He hissed, throwing Tom away from him suddenly. Tom stumbled back, catching himself.

The other hunter grabbed Ritchie, throwing Tom an only semi-sympathetic look while he towed him away. They got in a beat up truck a few paces away and drove off.

"He's gone rotten." Someone said behind him, making Tom spin to find a man standing there, light brown hair shining in the light. He was tall, wearing a worn leather jacket and jeans. He smiled a Tom, throwing out a hand.

"I'm Ben." He said, smile creasing his eyes. He looked gone about thirty, the median age for most hunters.

"Tom." He replied, shaking the offered hand. "What do you mean "gone rotten"? I thought he'd always been like that." He questioned.

"Not always." Ben said, turning to face the sun. "Used to be a bastard before, too, but not like this. Like..." He trailed off.

"Like an old dog?" Tom supplied.

"That's it." Ben said. "But it doesn't matter. We didn't think he'd help out anyways."

"We?"

"Our team." Ben said. "I did hear you say you wanted to go with the Winchesters, right?"

Tom nodded, following as the man turned and started walking. He found himself next to the impala, a few feet from the Winchesters. He sucked in a breath as he saw them up close.

"They're so young!" He hissed to Ben, who turned to him in a mixture of amusement and surprise.

"Yeah."

The two brothers couldn't be older than thirty. Tom hadn't seen them very well when they had been speaking, but had always assumed they were in their forties at least. Ben looked years older right next to them, lines circling his face while theirs still had youth.

"Hell, I'm older than them!" He told Ben, who chuckled. Sam turned at the sound, hazel eyes flashing in amusement.

"Hey Ben." He said, walking over in two long strides. Tom's eyes widened as the man towered over them. "Who's this?"

"Tom." Ben supplied. "Newest member of the team nobody wanted to join."

Sam was about to respond when another voice spoke up.

"It's not that bad, is it?" Dean Winchester asked, standing next to his brother. He was only a few inches shorter, but was just as encompassing. "It's better than nobody."

Sam sighed, looking around at their meager group. "I'm not sure." He said. "The other teams have enough, though, so that's fine."

Dean squinted down at Tom, green eyes piercing. "Who're you?"

"Tom." Sam supposed before Tom could answer. Ben smirked at the small flash of annoyance that passed over Tom's face. "He's new."

"Great." Dean said enthusiastically, clapping a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Go ahead and ignore my brother. He hasn't had his coffee yet."

Tom restrained himself from pointing out it was late afternoon and just nodded. Sam sighed again, but grabbed a black case from the ground and showed it to Dean.

"We've got Mastema." Sam said, looking resigned. "No one wanted the tough one, naturally."

Dean groaned, throwing up his hands. "Of course the group with the least people gets the hardest demon. Of course."

Tom was surprised at the difference between these two men now and ten minutes ago. The two hunters still commanded attention, but it seemed more relaxed.

Dean smirked. "Guess we'll just have to try harder. Hasn't stopped us before."

Sam snorted but nodded, grabbing the case and taking it over to the back of the impala. Popping open the trunk, Tom raised an eyebrow as the false bottom revealed an arsenal of weapons larger than even the most paranoid hunter's. Sam set the case down and shut the trunk, running his hands together.

"Okay, let's band everyone together and get rolling. Directions, motels, all of it." He said, voice getting incrementally more serious.

Dean nodded, signaling Ben. The other man took off, talking to the crowd off to their left and pointing at the impala.

An uncomfortable silence followed, but Tom tried not to think about it like that.

"How long you been hunting, kid?" Dean asked, voice low.

"Not long." Tom replied, heart thumping as the two Winchesters' eyes focused in him. "A year, maybe two."

Dean shook his head while Sam sighed slightly, running his hands through his long chestnut hair. "Shame."

"You ready?" Sam asked, and Tom found himself face to face with a pair of large, hazel eyes.

He supposed this was why the Winchesters made such a great team. Dean was all sharp edges and humor, willing to get down there with you and fight it out, while Sam was the negotiator. The person you could talk to. And truthfully, Tom felt like he could spill everything to this man, the witch, the "accident", his dead family.

He had a feeling if he didn't look away soon, his lips would move out of their own volition and Sam would listen forever.

"Yeah." He said, turning his gaze down to his boots. "Yeh, I'm ready."

Before he could look up again, a shout came from Ben.

"Ready!"

Sam patted him on the same shoulder Dean had, walking away to stand in front of the small crowd.

"Welcome." Dean said, eyes sparkling with bitter humor. "Small group, heh?"

A few nods from the audience, a few chuckles. Dean smirked, stepping forward. He looked powerful in the low light, cheekbones sharp and precise. Tom wondered why, for a second, the Winchesters had such a hate following. The two of them looked like the epitome of hunters, tall and proud, quick and precise in everything they did. Simply standing in front of them, Tom knew he'd follow them into anything, powerful demon or not.

It sort of scared him.

"This is just a check in. We're going after the fourth, and, you guessed it, most powerful demon. Her name is Mastema and she's a real bitch, trust me.

"Since we're not a large group, motels are up to you. Stay within a half hour distance from the address we gave you, and you should be good. We we will have one meeting at a determinable location before the hunt." He paused, considering the faces staring at him.

"I'm not gonna lie, guys. This isn't looking like the easiest hunt in the world, but we're in this together. We're going to get this done."

There was a finality in his words that nobody doubted.

Sam stepped forward, smoothing things over with a small smile. He didn't say anything, but Tom instantly felt better, like something had been lifted from them. Ritchie's words echoed in his head, though, and that turned his stomach a little.

"Alright. We load in ten minutes. Anybody with questions, come over and talk to us."

The hunters nodded, disbanding towards their separate cars. Tom glanced back at the two brothers before walking back to this own truck.

Ben ran up beside him, looking a little anxious. "Hey, can I ride with you?" He asked, carrying a bag and a sawed-off.

Tom frowned but nodded quickly. "How'd you get here?" He asked curiously when they got in, throwing the truck into reverse.

Ben threw his backpack on the backseat, setting his shotgun down on top of it. "In the Impala."

Tom's jaw dropped. "You RODE with them?"

Ben nodded, not seeing his surprise. "They wanted some alone time or something. I think Dean's pissed at Ritchie or something. Can't blame him."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked.

Ben seemed to catch himself, turning towards the window. "Oh, nothing. So, what kind of music do you have?"

Ben reached into the glove compartment anyway, grabbing his old tapes.

"Styx? Really?" He sighed. "Picked the wrong guy to ride with."

And so the rest of the ride went. Apparently Foreigner wasn't manly enough music to keep in your truck either.

* * *

A/N Continuation will happen...but begging for reviews is kind of my thing now, right?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N Thanks so much for the reviews. Here's another chapter. What can I say? I was feeling magnanimous :)

* * *

The drive disappeared like any other, hours blending together as they drove northeast. Night fell after a while, but Tom didn't feel tired. Ben was surprisingly good company, cracking jokes and offering to drive a couple times. Besides the ribbing for the music earlier, he didn't complain when "Blue Collar Man" came on, so Tom didn't really have a problem with him.

They ended up in Chicago at the same time as the Winchesters, travel weary but pumped. Sam and Dean looked unruffled as they stopped at the motel, faces unlined after the long drive. Tom envied the energy of Dean as the other man leaped out of the Impala, walking over to Ben. Shadows seemed to follow him as he walked gracefully over the motel's parking lot, making Tom double take at the time.

His watch read three-thirty when he checked.

"How're you doing kiddo?" Dean asked, reaching a hand up to rifle Ben's hair almost affectionately. The other man blushed, tilting his head into the touch surprisingly. Tom stared on, confused by the term. Dean didn't seem to notice, spying Sam as the tall man grabbed the case from the trunk and walking over. Sam handed him a key to one of the motel rooms robotically, like he'd done it a million times.

Tom supposed he had.

"Kiddo?" Tom asked Ben when Dean strode off. Ben still looked faintly embarrassed, avoiding eye contact. "He's younger than you!" Tom half said and asked, confused. He watched as Sam told Dean something, features clouded. Dean nodded gravely, turning to face the mouth of the parking lot like he was waiting for something.

Ben just smiled, not seeming to notice the weird communication between the Winchesters. "It's just a weird thing." He told Tom, subject closed. They both turned as three more trucks entered the lot, semi-familiar hunters parking and disembarking to form a circle around the Winchesters. Two of the hunters looked distressed, talking to Dean animatedly. Tom watched as Dean backed up a little, letting Sam take over. The other man made calming motions with his hands, large form shifting from dangerous to reassuring inexplicably in front of his eyes.

Tom began to walk over, curious. He heard Ben's footsteps behind him, tapping on the asphalt.

"-tire or something!" He heard one of the other hunters say anxiously. "Haven't checked in since. Phones don't work either."

The brothers stared at each other, sharing a look Tom wished he could decipher. He could see the front Sam put I for a second when he leaned forward, calming the anxious hunters.

"We'll hear from them." Sam said firmly, eyes wide and rational. "Cell phones must have kicked out or something when they were changing the tire. Give them a couple hours." He said, and Tom wanted to believe those words, he really did, but something flashed in his eyes for a second that made him doubt the man was revealing the whole hand.

The two hunters nodded, uneasy but curbed for now. Sam kept his eyes sympathetic, turning back to the rest of the people surrounding them, but Dean spoke.

"Since we're all gathered here, and I can't think of a safer place than a motel parking lot, well have the run down here quickly." He said, eyeing the hunters. "There's a demon hidden out a few miles from here. Info says she'll be trying to flee tonight." He said.

"Info?" Someone questioned.

"Info." Dean said. "A reliable source, trust me." He said mysteriously, turning back to the rest of the crowd. "Take the rest of the night and tomorrow to get ready. Sleep in, sharpen your knives. Y'all know the drill."

Everyone nodded, Tom along with them. It was as if the drive had caught up to him, making the night appear fuzzy as he nodded numbly.

"Alright." Sam said, clapping his hands together once. "We move at eight tomorrow night. We'll be in room, ah..." He trailed off, checking the key in Dean's hand. "Room 12." He said. The hunters needed no more prompting, walking over to the office in shifts. Tom looked at Ben, unsure of their sleeping arrangements.

"We bunking?" Ben asked, broaching the topic before Tom could. He nodded, relieved. "That cool with you?" He asked Ben, still a little shocked at his familiarity. If he had been any other hunter, Tom would've hesitated.

"Yeah." Ben said, grabbing the bags from the truck. Tom accepted his, waiting for Ben to follow him to the office.

They got two queens, admittedly not the best but decent for a motel room. Ben fell into the bed, apparently as tired as Tom felt. He barely got his boots off before crawling into the bed, conking out immediately.

He woke up at nine, rolling out of bed with a start. Sweat dripped down his back as he scrambled for a knife. He felt a hand on his back, whirling to attack whoever it was before he saw a familiar face.

"Whoa." Ben said, gently disarming Tom. He felt a flush of embarrassment travel over him, partially from the simple maneuver and the nightmare.

"Sorry." He said, sitting down on the bed. Ben handed him his knife a second later, blade down.

"Nightmares, huh?" Ben asked, fully dressed as he sat down on his own bed. Coffee steamed in the crappy pot that came with the room, inviting even though it looked toxic.

"Yeah." Tom admitted, blinking furiously. Even now he could see faces, accusing and bloody. Nightmares were terrible, but he knew almost all of the hunters had gotten over them earlier. It'd been about two years, and he couldn't achieve what they had quite yet.

"Sucks." Ben said, looking down into his hands. He grabbed a mug from the table, sipping from it.

"My dad has those." Ben said. "Real bad ones sometimes." He admitted, taking another sip.

"Your dad a hunter?" Tom asked, leaning back into the pillows as he stretched his legs, trying to focus on the semi-pain of it.

"Mhmm." Ben affirmed into his mug.

"What'd he do about them?" Tom asked, stretching his other leg.

"Nothing." Ben said, smiling bitterly. "You get used to it."

Tom nodded slowly. "You ever get nightmares?" He asked honestly, staring at the other man.

Ben stood, checking his watch. "Actually, I've gotta run. I'm doing some training stuff with another hunter." He said, avoiding the question with the grace of an elephant.

"Oh. Okay."

He smiled quickly, reaching out and grabbing a jacket before leaving. The door slammed behind him softly.

Tom leaned back into the pillows even further, tears leaking out as he finally let himself cry.

* * *

When eight rolled around, Tom had lost track of time again. Someone had banged on his door five minutes ago, shouting that the meeting in the lot was in five minutes. Tom put down the knife he was sharpening, sliding it into a sheath a second later. He grabbed the rest of his gear, checking the room before closing the door behind him.

Sam and Dean stood next to their car, jeans dark. They stood fluidly, not giving away the location of their weapons. Tom didn't know when he'd started looking for gun bulges, but he couldn't detect any on them. He wasn't stupid enough to assume they were entering this fight weaponless, either.

A small group was forming, the majority of the hunters present. The last few walked up behind Tom as he made it to the edge, eyes on the two men.

"We move now." Sam said, almost formally. "Follow us to these coordinates and wait. Get ready while you can. We'll go over specifics when we get there."

Cars started, hunters retrieving papers from Sam. They rolled out of the parking lot, leaving Tom behind as he waited for Ben.

"You seen Ben?" He asked someone, grabbing their shoulder. The hunter shook his head. Tom looked around nervously, trying to find the tall brown haired man.

A familiar face popped up behind the motel wall, walking over to Tom. He sighed, opening the door to his truck and hopping in. Ben climbed in after a second, eager expression on his face.

"Y'ready?" He asked, bag dropping in front of his feet.

Tom nodded, eyes on the road. He never usually talked on a hunt, absorbed in his own thoughts.

Ben seemed to notice this, leaning back into the seat. Silence filled the cabin, only to be shattered by the radio Tom flicked on a second later.

* * *

When they arrived at the site, Sam and Dean had already arranged the hunters. Groups went off in different directions, surrounding the large manor's grounds on either side. The manor was glowing from all the lights turned on inside, glowing with money nobody in their group had ever seen. Tom and Ben walked up as the last group got their orders, positioning themselves near what Tom guessed was the side exit.

"Reporting for duty, sir!" Ben whispered sarcastically, throwing his arms up in a mock salute. Sam rolled his eyes at that, smacking Dean when he saluted back.

"What?" He asked Sam. "He's funny!"

Sam rolled his eyes again, leaning down to aim a flashlight at a piece of paper in his hand.

"Tom, Ben, you guys are with us." He said, flashing the light so they nodded.

Dean smiled, teeth white in the moonlight. "Gear up. We move in five."

He and Sam crouched down, opening another bag to reveal the case and two sawed-offs. Sam unloaded a box of ammo, deftly checking the guns over. Dean stood, watching over his brother as Tom awkwardly bent to load his gun. He couldn't muster the same grace as Sam, fingers slipping over the pellets.

"Slow down." Dean muttered softly from above, voice almost vibrating through the air it was so deep. "You've got time, kid."

Tom wanted to point out that he was older than them, but kept his mouth shut. Authority leaked from these two men, so powerful he didn't doubt for a second the skill they possessed. He slowed down, articulate under Dean's sharp gaze. Sam threw one of the guns to Dean with a load of ammo, slinging his own gun over his shoulder.

"We got work to do." Dean said, walking forward. Three other hunters joined him, Sam pulling up the rear.

"You guys good?" Sam asked, voice reassuring but focused. His eyes were large, pupils dilated until all you could see of his green-blue-grey eyes was a thin circle.

"Yeah." Ben and Tom said at the same time, nodding. Ben grabbed his shotgun, following as Sam moved them into position.

"We're gonna corner this bitch." Dean said, pointing at the door a couple of hundred meters in front of them. "Intel says Mastema's gonna make a run for it soon. We're here to prevent that." He said, grinning. A couple hunters smiled back, most staring at the floor.

"The second she gets out the door, y'all hit her with as much salt as you can. She won't go down with just that, but it'll freak her out for a second. Sam and I will move in a second later, getting these on her." He said, raising a pair of shackles. Symbols reflected in the dim light, archaic and mysterious. Tom guessed this was what had been in the case.

"After that, well, we'll see." Dean said, eyeing every hunter one by one. His gaze was piercing even in the moonlight, sharp and dangerous.

Sam stood next to him, shadowy and equally as stoic. The two of them looked powerful, commanding in the light, and Tom had to avert his eyes like the rest of the hunters.

"We're still short, aren't we?" Ben asked as they moved into waiting positions. "Those hunters never called, did they?" He asked, aiming his question at Sam.

Both men checked to see if the other hunters were in earshot before shaking their heads. Tom noticed that glint of knowledge in the taller Winchester's eye as Sam turned away.

They settled in then, watching the door of the manor. Movement flickered behind the windows, but they were too far away to see it. A few minutes later, the door cracked open slightly, revealing a young girl's face. She crept forward, white shift drenched in blood. She couldn't have been more than sixteen.

Tom hesitated, holding his fire. The other hunters seemed to feel the same way, shotguns shaking in doubt. Sam and Dean shared another quick glance, expressions changing.

"Take the shot." Sam whispered at the hunters, pinching the bridge of his nose oddly. "Take it."

Dean closed his eyes in defeat. "Take the damn shot." He said, opening them wide. "On three. One, two...three."

A roar, guns bucking against shoulders. The girl stumbled, chest exploding with salt. Sam and Dean ran forward, chains out. The girl got up quickly, face shifting into something vicious and black-eyed.

Sam dropped his gun, diving forward with a slim knife. He twisted with her, moves startlingly fast as they fought, slashing and twisting around each other in some grotesque parody of a dance. Dean kept watch, gun poised and aimed at her head.

Sam twisted the knife again, flashing silver in the night. His knife skills were extraordinary, almost ethereal. Finally, he hooked a leg around her calf, sending her down to the ground.

He was on her in a second, chains appearing in his hands. He clamped them on, dragging the girl up from the ground quickly. The other hunters stood dumbfounded, impressed and slightly nervous. The girl snarled at them, black eyes staring out of a dirt-streaked face.

"Shut up, bitch." Dean said, stalking back over with Sam. They each held an arm, taking her back to the parking lot. Dean whistled sharply, signal echoing across the grounds. Hunters began to spill out, confused.

"Aww." The demon said, twisting the young girl's voice into something sultry. "All this for me, Sammy honey?"

Sam's expression didn't change, guiding Mastema to the Impala. She seemed weakened by the chains, pain appearing in the slight pinching of her face.

She saw Tom staring, winking obscenely. "Who's this?" She asked Dean, tilting her head up at the other hunter.

"No one." He said, moving her into the backseat. She smiled widely at him, face half-crazed.

"Working with Winchesters, honey?" She asked before Dean shut the door. Clucking her tongue at him, she shrugged. "Such a shame."

Dean slammed the door a little harder than necessary, turning to face the gathered hunters.

"Back to Lebanon." He said, illiciting a few muffled groans of complaint. "I know, I know. Get your stuff from the motel and get there within the next two days. We work the spell there."

The hunters grumbled, moving as a unit to where the cars were parked, loading up quickly. Tom turned to Ben then.

"Did they really need all of us?" He asked, concerned. Ben shook his head.

"No. Someone accused them of being..well..satanic a couple years ago. Crazy guy. Anyways, rumors spread that the Winchesters wouldn't play nice with others. This is their response to that. Good impressions and all."

Tom raised an eyebrow at that. "They're scarily good, then."

Ben chuckled. "Yeah. That they are."

Tom noticed Dean sending a strange look over at Ben before getting in the Impala, Sam already telling him something. The Impala sped off, demon in the backseat sitting prim and proper in her bloodied shift.

"Now what?" He asked Ben, feeling a little shell-shocked.

"Now?" Ben asked, tilting his head. He pointed west.

"Lebanon. That's where it's all gonna go down."

* * *

A/N Know it's short. Review?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N Alright, last chapter! Fanfiction's been crashing on me, and my text has been really goofy, so please excuse any awkward spaces. I hope you guys enjoyed this fic, and here's a long chapter!

* * *

They made good time to Lebanon, coasting through the highways in about two days. Tom and Ben took turns driving this time, music subdued. A part of Tom knew instinctively something big was going to go down in Lebanon-spell or not, he had a bad feeling about the place.

After about two hours of unconscious worrying during the ride, he'd put on some Def Leppard and tried to focus on the road in front of him. Ben was passed out in the seat next to him, suddenly looking years younger than the man he was. Brown, floppy hair covered his face, and Tom smiled as he heard the distinct muffled snores coming out from underneath it. He remembered being about six and hearing his father's snores for the first time in the middle of the night. To say he had been scared would have been an understatement.

That was back when monsters hadn't been real.

Ben got up and drove some more a few hours later, but Tom took the last leg of the journey. Something was still bugging him, and while he trusted Ben, he knew there was something going on. Instinct was a hunter's best friend, more sometimes.

By the time they'd made it to the same field, only half of the hunters in their group were there. Sam and Dean were present in the center, demon girl a shadowy figure in the backseat. The two of them were standing in the middle of the group, fielding questions and trading glances with the other.

Tom nudged Ben awake, getting a sleepy "Mhmm?" before he leaped out of the truck. Counting, he walked up to the Winchester's group.  
"Hiya, Tom." Dean said when he spotted him, green eyes welcoming. The rest of the hunters turned towards him in surprise, wondering who Dean was smiling at. Tom resisted the urge to blush, looking up at Sam. The taller man seemed to notice the seriousness in his eyes, walking a few paces away so they could talk privately.

"We're missing more people, aren't we?" He asked quietly, so only Sam could hear. The taller man nodded after a second, eyes going distant for a second.

"Yeah." The hunter admitted.

"So where is everyone, then?" Tom asked nervously, not liking the gap in their already small group.

"Gone." Dean said, breaking free from the group and walking over to stand next to Sam. "Hate to say it, but we're not the most popular kids on the block."

"Still." Tom said, biting his lip. "Why would they just leave? We haven't even done the spell yet. Wouldn't they want to see it through? I don't get it."  
Sam turned away, oddly, and Dean looked furious for a second. Tom took a step back, thinking the anger was directed at him, but Dean gave him a small reassuring smile.

"Someone's been stirring up trouble in the hunters." Dean said. "While a lot of people are willing to grab and bag a demon, not a lot are prepared to use the methods we are."

"Which are?" Tom asked.

"You'd call it magic." Sam said, voice smooth as it echoed over to Tom. Dean nodded, fingering a silver ring on his hand.

"It's kind of taboo, for hunters." The green eyed hunter added, words slightly bitter.

Tom frowned, confused by the icy expression on the other man's face. "Magic? Isn't that what we already do with the exorcisms, though?"  
Dean nodded. Sam was still avoiding eye contact, and he seemed to slip into the shadows behind his brother,fluid. Dean glanced at him, anger flashing across his face as Sam shook his head at the silent question.

"The hunting community is fine with closing the gates to Hell, obviously." Dean said, waving a hand out at the groups nearby. "It's the dirty work they don't want to stay around for."

Tom turned, looking at the hunters gathered. Even with the trucks rolling in, it seemed like a lot of the people had disappeared.  
"Dirty work?" He asked the blonde hunter.

"Like your shoes, buddy boy. Great fit, great sweatshop they were made in. Circle of life and all. Most just don't wanna see the way it really works." He said, tone deceptively light. Cold green eyes met his before the man took a breath and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, kid."

With that, Dean stalked off, anger radiating from him. Sam looked at Tom for a second before following, apology clear in his eyes. Tom watched them go before walking over to his truck.

Ben was sitting up, perched on the passenger's seat with the door open. He was watching Dean and Sam, eyes thoughtful. Tom tapped on the door in greeting, settling down in the driver's seat.

"Talk to anyone yet?" He asked Ben, curious.

"Yeah." Ben said. "Some hunters said the other groups are on their way already. I'm guessing they got the easier demons."

"When?" Tom asked, staring at the wheel.

"Tomorrow night, they said." Ben murmured, looking up at the grey sky. "You think it's gonna rain?"

Tom cracked a smile. "Not if Dean Winchester has a say in it." He said, laughing a little.

Ben didn't join in.

* * *

Groups came in for the rest of the afternoon, two demons coming bound throughout the night. People camped out in their cars, used to bunking on the run. The demons were put in devil's traps in various vehicles, far away from their fellow hellspawn. Sam and Dean still kept their demon in the back of the Impala, shackles glinting when the girl shifted. Tom didn't go within thirty feet of her, anxiety spiking whenever he got within even a hundred feet of the gorgeous car.

The groups looked weary as they settled down, some sporting bruises and cuts. Tom saw Sam glance worriedly over them, concerned, but the man didn't move. He seemed like a good man, and Tom knew a lot of the hunters would do well to have him in their group, but nobody moved. It was like an eternal stalemate, one side willing and the other not. The hunters sat in tight groups, wounds getting dressed and stitched only by those they trusted. Tom sat with Ben most of the time in the truck, realizing how closely knit these groups were.

Sam and Dean made their own camp, small fire burning in front of the Impala. No one dared to camp near them.

Tom felt a strange sort of empathy for the boys. While they were possibly the most skilled hunters in existence, theirs was a lonely life. The other hunters at least had the trust of those near them, but besides each other, Dean and Sam didn't have much.

Ben seemed to notice this too, and instead of making camp near Tom's truck, he nudged them towards the Winchesters. Tom swallowed his fear of the demon in the backseat and followed, each step reverberating through him like an oath. Ben didn't seem to notice his discomfort, face lighting up as he approached the Winchesters.

Tom still hadn't asked him about his strange relationship with them, vowing just to watch and respect the man's privacy. He seemed to put Dean at ease a little, and that couldn't be all bad. If anyone needed allies, it was the Winchesters.

Sam's head whipped up in surprise as they approached, sleeping bags in hand. It was like some sort of crude slumber party, gathered around a campfire in a middle of nowhere Kansas field. Dean watched Tom warily for a second before shifting for Ben to put his bag down. Sam moved accordingly for Tom.

"I'd have to say dare." Dean said to Ben a second later, shit eating grin on his face. Ben chuckled, face going thoughtful.

"I'd dare you to go to sleep, but I don't think you would." Sam interrupted before Ben could say something, amusement flashing through his cat-like eyes. The taller hunter looked even more otherworldly than Dean in the shadows, eyes liquid under dark hair. He held a small notebook in his hands, writing neat and methodical. Runes layered the margins, and Tom guessed this was the spell for tomorrow.

"Well, you know me, Sammy." Dean replied, grinning. "Gotta make sure all the kids get to sleep first."

Tom neglected to point out that they were probably the youngest people here and stayed silent, just enjoying the mood of the night.

He could still feel the cold glances people threw the Winchesters' way. The groups had multiplied, and while they weren't at hundred percent, many of the hunters from the third group had returned. Tom guessed that must have been in part because of Alan. The last group was set to return by noon tomorrow, when the spell would go down.

"Alright." Sam murmured, attention drawn back to his notebook. Tom saw his lips move to soundlessly shape the words of the spell. He sat, transfixed for a few seconds before a sharp snap drew him out of his reverie.

"You with me, Tom?" Dean was asking, green eyes bright. He held a packet of cards in one hand and peanuts in the other. Ben was next to him, looking eager around a mouthful of the nuts.

"What?" He replied dumbly, earning a smile from the other hunters.

"Cards." Dean said. "Since we're all gonna be up with the nerd over there." He said, throwing a peanut at Sam. The other hunter didn't even look up when he caught it one-handed, still poring over the runes.

"Fuck off." Sam muttered in between pages, turning it with long fingers before good-naturedly flipping Dean off as another peanut sailed towards his head.

Tom smiled a little at their antics and nodded at Dean. "What're we playin'?" He asked, laying the accent on thick. A warm smile greeted him.

"Texas Hold 'Em." The hunter said. "Second best only to strip poker, but I'm not sure I'd like to see Sam-"

A peanut cut him off, smacking him in the nose faster than the eyes could see. Tom turned to find Ben frowning at Sam.

The other hunter still sat with his eyes glued on the book, small smile gracing his features.

* * *

When dawn came, Tom had finally passed out. Dean had wiped the floor with him and more, teaching Ben and him in ways he'd never imagined cards could be taught. When Tom had asked him how he knew the game so well, all he got was another smile and a brush off. So, when four came around, Tom had curled up on his sleeping bag and tried to find sleep. It came slowly, in gray tendrils that dragged him down until he was finally unconscious.

By the time he'd woken up, it was around noon. Startled at the time on his watch, he jumped up, ready for anything. He found Ben standing next to the Impala with a water bottle and some Advil.

"Here." He said, tossing both to Tom. The other hunter watched as he took the pills, smile still intact.

"I mean, you didn't even drink." Ben said after a second, clapping him on the shoulder. Tom smacked him playfully, wincing when his shoulder popped. He stretched as Ben filled him in.

"Besides the call last night, we're not sure where the last group is." He told Tom. "So, we wait. And hope that they bring back more hunters."  
"More hunters?" Tom asked, frowning.

Ben shrugged. "Spell goes wrong, we're gonna need more than we have to keep it under wraps."

"But it's not gonna go wrong. Sam and Dean, they've got it down." Tom replied in confusion.

Ben shrugged again, turning to leave. "I'm not saying they're the ones who're gonna mess it up." He said, leaving Tom standing there as he walked off to the Impala.

Tom tried to keep busy for the rest of the day, taking a supply run with a few other hunters down to the gas station a few towns over to avoid suspicion. He cleaned his unused guns and knives before going for a quick run around the field. The other hunters seemed to be doing the same thing, hunkering down and waiting. Tom spotted Alan sharpening a large knife a few cars over, but didn't talk to the man. He didn't see much of Ben or the Winchesters either, except for a quick flash of the brothers around four. He'd passed the taller hunter on his run, spying Sam off in the trees on the far side of the field.

Sam stood straight and tall next to a tree, hands at his sides. His back was to Tom, elegant and almost formal. He stood completely still, as if he were waiting for something. Tom's path took him a little to the side, and he saw that Sam's eyes were closed. Tom felt a chill go through him as he saw Dean appear from behind the trees, knife in hand. He circled Sam, knife point-down. The taller hunter still stood still, though Tom could see his hand move forward and clasp around Dean's, encasing the knife almost ceremonially. Tom quickened his pace; fear running through his already adrenaline-pumped body. By the time he'd made it far enough to calm down, the Winchesters were gone, no existence of the ceremony remaining.

Shaken, he'd returned to the truck. Ben still hadn't shown his face all day, and Tom guessed he was running his own drills.

Hell, if Tom didn't know better, he'd have assumed Ben had taken off like the other hunters. But he knew better, so all he did was wait.

Dusk came around, and with it the last hunters. Everyone stood at the circle in the middle of the field, dressed and ready for the spell. As predicted, fewer hunters returned. Ben came up to his side wordlessly, Sam and Dean a few paces behind him. They all watched as the trucks rolled in, faces impassive.

Tom felt a chill go through him as the final demon went past, presence twisted and so truly EVIL it made him look away. Ritchie piloted the truck, old face grim as he parked next to the crowd.

Two hunters dragged the demon out, chains glinting in the dusk. Ritchie joined them, glaring at the Winchesters. Sam and Dean walked up, repressed tension leaking out of the two of them.

Tom saw Sam flinch, almost unnoticeable, as they neared the group. Dean reached out a quick hand, drawing Sam in for a sharp conversation, words too soft for Tom to hear. By the time they reached the hunters, both were calm.

"Last one." Dean stated, reaching out a hand to Ritchie with a forced smile on his face. The other hunter ignored the peaceful gesture, sidestepping the pair to walk over to the other hunters from his group. Dean frowned but settled back on his heels, motioning for Sam to lead the hunters over to the last secured devil's trap.

The demon was possessing an average man, average brown hair and brown eyes with average features. It hissed at Tom as it passed, eyes flicking black. One of the hunters slapped it hard across the face; sound making Tom flinch along with the demon.

Ben put a comforting hand on his shoulder, eyes filled with regret and determination. Nobody liked this part; the part where you could see the human behind the monster you had to end. A couple of steps to the left or right and that could have been them.

They shut the demon up in the trap, walking over to gather around the Impala like the first meeting. Weary hunters from the last group trudged over, just as determined as the others. Sam and Dean walked over after another brief conversation; heads raised high around the divided group.

"We're planning on starting the spell in about half an hour, in order to catch the sunset." Sam stated clearly. "Any questions?"

"What are we doing with the demons?" Someone from the back called out.

"Spell." Dean said as if it were obvious, and it was. "The four of them are dangerous together, but in the devil's trap we're going to make, we should be good."

Ritchie called out this time. "Some big-ass devil's trap ain't gonna hold all four!"

Sam turned, eyes flashing. "It will. Trust us, nothing's getting out of this kind of trap. It holds more power than you could ever imagine."

Ritchie glared at the eloquent response, but settled down. The other hunters shuffled, ready to get on with it.

"If you just got in, go get ready. We start in half an hour." Dean stated before walking off. The groups began to disassemble partially, some hunters staying and others leaving. Tom saw a couple of hunters gathered around Ritchie, talking animatedly. He walked over, curious.

"-as if they weren't." Ritchie was saying in a low voice, gesturing quickly. "There's nothing human about this. If I didn't know better, I'd be sticking them in a devil's trap myself."

Some hunters frowned, while a couple nodded.

"But isn't this good?" One of the younger hunters asked, a man Tom recognized from the roadhouse. "We're closing hell. Ain't that good?"

Ritchie's eyes went cold. "How do you even know that's what they're doing?" He asked the hunter. "Why are we just following orders, especially when they could be sacrificing all of us?" He said, voice tuned perfectly so the anxiety and fear crept through the air to the rest of the hunters.

Tom turned away, disgusted by the slander. He found Ben wearing a matching expression of hate, glaring at the man.

"I'm sick and tired of his bullshit." Ben spat. "It's people like him that make the rest of us look bad. I don't even care that he used to be good. This has gone on fucking long enough." He said, starting towards the old man. Tom had enough sense to grab the other man's shoulder and pull him back.

"Don't." He said in Ben's ear. "Don't give him what he wants. He wants a scene, wants you to doubt the plan."

Ben turned furious eyes to him. "The things he's said! About Sam and Dean, for chrissake!" He took in a breath. "They're the last ones who deserve this, you know that?" He said to Tom darkly. "The last fucking ones."

Tom pushed him away, moving towards the truck. "Go cool down, Ben." He said sharply. "Murdering one of our own isn't going to help anyone."

Ben's eyes flashed darkly for a second, and Tom felt a split second of panic when something passed through Ben. The other man was a second away from knocking him over when a hand came down on his shoulder.

"Hey Ben." Dean Winchester said calmly, voice jovial. "Wanna come talk to me for a sec?" He asked, gesturing over at the Impala. Sam was nowhere in sight, disappearance making Tom nervous, oddly.

Ben closed his eyes for a second and nodded, opening them to reveal he'd calmed down. Dean smiled and led him away, tossing Tom a wink over his shoulder.

Tom stood there, confused at Dean's perfect timing but grateful nonetheless. By the time Ben returned with Dean, Sam had appeared with his book and the knife from before. Ben joined Tom while the Winchesters cleared an area a hundred feet wide. Sam took the knife and cut a large circle in the ground, wider than any devil's trap Tom had ever seen. He carved various runes into it while Dean stood watch, daring any curious hunters to stare. When the circle was done, Sam cut a strange rune into the center, a sort of spiraling star that spread out into four points. The whole thing was elegant, nearly perfect as it was cut into the dust.

When it was done, Dean walked over and took the knife. He slipped it into a sheath as three groups of hunters brought the demons over, at least two men securing each set of shackles. Sam walked over to the Impala and grabbed the female demon from the back seat, touching the roof of the car lightly as he lifted the demon out. Tom frowned as the demon passed the devil's trap in the car, confusion increasing as he saw a spark where Sam was touching the roof.

One hand on the engraved shackles, Sam brought the demon over. Dean was directing the other hunters to place the demons in one separate quarter each of the trap. Each spiral of the star had its own devil's trap inside, entrapping the demons while still keeping them together. Overall, it was particularly clever.

The demons hissed as they were pushed into the traps, shackles glowing brightly as they tried to draw on their powers. Tom saw Dean grin in the glow, teeth white.

"Not today, sweetheart." He said as he pushed Mastema into the trap. Her white shift was still dirty, dried blood brown after three days in the car. She bared her teeth at him when she fell into the trap; shackles glowing brightly like the other demons'.

The hunters stood around the trap, guns and knives ready. All eyes were on the Winchesters as Sam took his place in the center of the trap. Lines spiraled out from the symbol he stood on, focusing the power of the trap. Dean stood next to the trap, as close as he could get to his brother.

Sam spoke, alien words ringing out as his lips shaped the words Tom had seen him mouth the night before. He spoke flawlessly, voice lilting around the words. The demons shifted as the trap began to slog slightly, red matching the dying sun's.

The tall hunter seemed to grow in height as the words continued, sunset framing his face in sharp angles. He looked ethereal, more powerful even to the hunters. Awe filled many faces, while suspicion filled others.

Sam made a motion towards the first demon, hand slicing through the air until it was above the demon. He twisted his hand, frowning in concentration.

A red light began to fill the demon, and energy drifted from the host until a small cloud was hanging above the trap. The man the demon had been possessing fell limply to the ground, but from where Tom could see, his chest was still rising. Sam still looked tense, reaching for the next demon.

Tom heard a gasp as the hunters watched the display of power. Hunters began to whisper furiously, gesturing at the younger Winchester. Whatever doubts about the Winchester's status had been quelled; human or not, no one was going to step in Sam's way.

Even so, Tom knew a large part of the community would never face the brothers as allies again.

Sam took care of the second and third demons accordingly, still chanting. A look of fierce determination and concentration was on his face, made more intense by the fire of the sun behind him. Dean stood next to the devil's trap still, face impassive as he gazed intently at his brother. Tom could see years of concern hiding behind there, and guessed this hadn't been the first time Sam had been called on to do something like this.

By the time the second and third demons were in the cloud, matching red light melding together, the crowd had become silent. All earlier chatter and alarm had faded to an uneasy silence as Sam faced off the more powerful demon; face slightly pale but still radiating power. The two made gazed at each other for a minute, Sam's chanting quieter yet more focused.

A flurry of motion broke the silence, and Tom barely had a second to recognize Ritchie's figure before the older man was leaping forward, knife descending towards Sam's back. Tom saw Dean's face morph into alarm as the knife flashed down towards his brother, but nobody was close enough to stop the hunter even if they wanted to.

Tom gasped as Sam's hand shot out, twisting away the knife without even turning around. He kept chanting, maneuvering in the trap to hold the knife against Ritchie's throat in a swift motion. Shouts rang out as Ritchie's eyes flashed black, dark as the night sky. A clear voice broke the chaos, echoing across the field.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, et secta diabolica," Dean's said calmly, walking forward as his brother held the hunter down.

"Ergo draco maledicte et sectio  
Ergo draco maledicte et legio secta diabolica," He spat at the man as he stalked towards Ritchie, danger radiating from every pore. Sam took the knife away, still chanting as his power kept the devil's trap sealed. He took a step back as his brother reached down. Dean gripped the man's face in his hands, drawing the demon up to eye level effortlessly.

"Ut Ecclésiam tuam secúra tibi fácias servire libertáte," Dean said to the demon, making its eyes glow red. The hunter smiled as the demon screamed, red light burning through its body. "Te rogámus, audi nos!" He shouted, releasing the demon into the sky. Ritchie screamed as the demon left his body, eyes rolling back into his head as he fell to the ground. The unnatural exorcism chilled Tom, and he felt Dean's power as it destroyed the demon out of the hunter's body, grasping it and snuffing it out like a candle. Dean stood over the body when it was done, nodding at his brother to finish.

Sam dropped the knife to the ground as he turned back to Mastema, eyes dark. She smiled back at him, waving daintily as he focused in on her. Tom saw the fear in the motion, guessing the demon knew she was outmatched.

Sam reached a hand out, power clear in his eyes. She became stiff in her trap, clenching her host's fists as he twisted his hand.

Her eyes began to glow red, fire burning behind them as the power in the devil's trap built to a crescendo. Sam was about to pull the demon out of the girl when the whole trap flashed white and Sam fell to his knees, small cry of pain escaping his lips.

When the light cleared, Sam was still kneeling. He looked strained, but he still faced the demon. A small trail of blood ran down from his nose, wiped away after a second. The demon was still encased in the singular pentagram, but the whole trap seemed to have shorted out. Tom searched, confused. Dean's curse carried over to him, and he glanced at the other man.

Ritchie was smiling, still lying on the ground next to the trap. His hand was covered in dirt, resting just next to where he'd broken the intricate lines of the trap. Dean kicked the hunter furiously in the ribs, swearing again. He tried to step into the web of lines towards Sam when a wave of power pushed him back.

Tom felt disgust twist through him at the mad smile on Ritchie's face. The bastard had probably been possessed from the start, but part of Tom knew the malicious look in the man's eyes wasn't only due to the demon.

"I've got this." Sam said painfully, staggering to his feet. Looking up, Tom saw the demons twisting sharply above the hunter. If the large trap was broken, it meant Sam was holding the demons by himself while keeping Mastema locked down simultaneously. The strain was showing on Sam's face, but he stood tall once more. His nose was bleeding again, but the taller Winchester didn't seem to notice.

Dean tried to enter the web again, only to receive a dark glance tinged with pain from Sam.

"Don't break the trap again." Sam said, as if every word were painful to get out. "It'll hold onto some power if you stay back." He stated, gesturing towards the broken line. Turning back to the demon, he rolled his shoulders back and began chanting again.

The demon twisted in his hold this time, fighting back with a smile. Tom knew demons were tricky, and would use any weakness. Sam looked weak, face pale and covered in blood as he chanted; still so goddamn intent it made Tom wonder.

Dean stood next to the trap still, tension radiating from his body as he stood on the balls of his feet, ready to sprint towards his brother at any second.  
The groups of hunters still had their guns out, but to Tom's surprise many had aimed them towards the Winchesters as well. A sharp lance of betrayal went through Tom, even though he wasn't the one being betrayed. To have a whole community turn on you like this…

Tom could feel the edges of Sam and Dean's power, keeping the danger back from the hunters gathered around. Even though it looked wrong, even though they looked like something the hunters should hunt, they were good. Hunters like this came around once every lifetime. No matter how many time the hunting community thought the brothers were betraying them, Sam and Dean were still protecting everyone. He couldn't say a part of him wasn't scared, but he KNEW these men, or a little of them. The last thing Sam or Dean would allow was someone to get hurt here. They'd destroy themselves first, as evidenced by Sam's standoff with the demons.

The strain was increasing on Sam's face as the demon fought back more, small gasps mingling with the chant he still spoke. Dean had his eyes closed, lending whatever he could to his brother. Tom didn't know how their power worked, but the way it felt….

Well, it was beautiful. No other words could describe it.

With a gasp, Sam fell to his knees once more. Dean's eyes stayed closed, but a frown appeared. Sam still threw a hand out, nose bleeding furiously now. The demon began to glow from the inside out, burnished red brighter than the other demons. Sam looked victorious as she escaped the host, twisting with the other demons above Sam's head.

Dean finally broke the trap, running up to this brother. Sam leaned against him as he gazed up at the squirming demons, victorious as he held them there.

Sam, still leaning against Dean, spoke a final word. When asked later, Tom couldn't remember what it was. All he could say was that it was magic, pure spirit encased in one word. It flew across the field as the sunset burned, lighting up the demons into one form and splintering it into tiny shards of light.  
The ensuing explosion was amazing, lighting up the whole sky. Two figures stood underneath it, shadowing the ground as the light faded. The ringing sound had a note of finality to it, exactly what Tom would have imagined closing the gates of hell would've sounded like-the ending chords on a zeppelin song, or the last glimpse of your ceiling before you fell asleep.

When the light faded, Sam and Dean were still standing. Sam looked weary, but less strained than before. Hunters began to talk animatedly, fear and celebration running through the crowds.

Dean was laughing, arm around Sam's waist. Ben ran up to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder. Dean rubbed a hand on his head affectionately; smile growing as Sam punched him in the shoulder.

"We did it." Tom saw Sam say, lips moving. Dean's answering smile was blinding. They walked over to the Impala, almost ignoring the hunters completely. They looked ethereal in the low light, burning even brighter than the sun.

Dean leaned Sam into the passenger's seat slowly, closing the door behind him and walking around to the driver's side. Ben stood there, eyes large.  
Dean gazed at him for a few long seconds, own eyes getting older and older as he looked up at the tall hunter. After a minute, he reached up, tenderly grabbing Ben. Placing a long kiss on his forehead, he wordlessly hugged the older man before releasing him and turning to get in the car. Tom, confused by the exchange, took a step forward before he remembered Sam's words from so many days ago.

There's a time for differences and a time to embrace them. Now is the time to put those aside. We do this together; you'll never see us again.  
Tom faltered, watching the Impala pull out of the other cars as the hunters began to talk even more furiously. Fingers pointed, disbelieving shouts rang out, but the Winchesters didn't stop.

He ran up to Ben, who stood silently behind the Impala as it drove slowly between the crowds. Ben had tears on his face when Tom found him, but he was smiling.

"Who is he?" Tom asked, finally bringing up the question. Ben's smile grew a little bit as he still stared after the car.

"My Dad." Ben said, body language radiating 's eyes widened, and he glanced after the Impala in wonder.

He startled as Dean's sharp eyes caught his in the rearview mirror, victorious and brighter than any sun. A smile flashed in the mirror, disappearing as the Impala drove further down the road.

The first thing you noticed about a Winchester was their smile, and the last thing you noticed was what it really meant.

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A/N Review?;)


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